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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813997">Living Arrangements for the Chronically Depraved</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrallofPentacles/pseuds/ThrallofPentacles'>ThrallofPentacles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Summoner's Transformation [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>23 vs mid to late 30s, 24/7 BDSM, Age Difference, BDSM, Begging, Condescension, Crossdressing, Crying, Degradation, Feminization, Fucking Machines, M/M, Masturbation, Misgendering, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Body Modification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Sex Toys, Slut Shaming, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, afab language, also a few instances/mentions of spanking, casual mentions of that time the POV character summoned an incubus, cis man with a vagina, cis man with breasts, consensual surveillance, edging as punishment, one (1) use of the word babygirl, whoops spelled it wrong the first time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:28:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrallofPentacles/pseuds/ThrallofPentacles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan needs somewhere to stay, while he's taking a vacation from his usual life, his usual routines, his usual <em>self.</em> He and a man he knows only as M have an arrangement. Unless he uses the safeword, M controls everything from his clothes to his orgasms—and Dylan obeys.</p><p>In theory, anyway. In practice, it's a lot harder than it sounds. When Dylan makes the mistake of touching himself without permission, M introduces him to his newest toy... and a punishment that tests the limits of his endurance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Summoner's Transformation [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Living Arrangements for the Chronically Depraved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the night at the club, when his curse grew his breasts to the point where they were impossible to hide, Dylan had two choices. He could say the name of the Incubus who had done this to him and return his body to normal... or he could keep his new chest and pussy, and take a little vacation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't even all that difficult. He texted his friends and family that he was following a job opportunity abroad, and not to expect him back for at least nine months. Then he packed his things, and disappeared. He kept up contact online, but nobody from his old life saw him in person—even if he ran into one of them on the street, they probably wouldn't recognize him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He met M shortly after that, in one of the private rooms at the Masquerade. He was an older man, probably mid to late thirties, and the kind of average-looking that could blend into a crowd without even trying. There was a sort of oiliness to him that had put Dylan off, at first—but then he'd started to whisper in his ear, the sorts of things that made him feel small and weak and filthy. He was just the right kind of condescending to drive him wild, and when it really came down to it, he did respect boundaries. Not someone Dylan would want to be with, romantically... but exactly the sort of person he wanted to fuck right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, when it was over and he lay sprawled out on one of the Masquerade's couches, he'd asked if they could do this again. The man had given him a time, and a room number. And things... went on like that. They saw each other once a week, then every other day, and then there came a week that saw Dylan spread his legs for M every night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've been looking for someone," M told him, that Saturday. "Someone interested in something a little more... intense."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How intense?" Dylan asked. He wasn't worried about M hearing his voice anymore—he'd told him most of the story, though he'd kind of glossed over the bit about summoning a literal demon. M knew the gist of the transformation, and that he had someone else he was hoping to go back to once the year was over, and that was enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It would be live-in." M noticed him stiffen and smiled. "Yes, that would be why I didn't bring it up until now. Nothing permanent, obviously, but I know you've been living out of motels, and I could provide something a bit more stable while you're waiting."</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"That... would be nice," Dylan admitted. He'd had a fair bit saved up before this mess started, but if things kept on like they were he wasn't totally sure he'd be able to keep a roof over his head without reversing Zin's spell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You would belong to me. Naturally, anything you wanted to veto would be fine—but we would be in character twenty-four seven."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan bit his lip. He was trying to think about this like a sensible person, which was difficult when his imagination kept running wild and distracting him. "I could keep up contact with people, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I could only do it for another six months."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I remember."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went back and forth like that for a little while—Dylan wanted to double-check that some things were definitely not going to happen, like unprotected sex. He didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>he could get pregnant, but he was nowhere near sure enough to risk it. Then, finally, he took a deep breath and asked his final question. "When would I start?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you have anything you'd like to do first? My car is out back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, yes—Dylan got in a man's car without even knowing his name. He was definitely a colossal idiot, but in his defense he did at least tell Masquerade's manager Tania where he was going. She knew M's real name, even if he didn't, and could call the police if Dylan stopped checking in with her. If she thought he was insane for agreeing to all this, she didn't bat an eye. Tania took her no judgments policy seriously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first week or so, it was barely different from the Masquerade. Dylan had a nicer room, now—whoever M was, he obviously had money to spare—but the sex was pretty similar. Familiar, which helped a lot for settling in. And just when he was starting to get a little restless, there came a night when M sat him down and said, "Come tomorrow, I'm going to start our little arrangement for real."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan's mouth went dry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You remember our word, pet?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do we say?" M drawled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan flushed and said, "Yes, sir." They had agreed that M was sir—to Dylan, only Zin would ever be his master.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good girl." M stood up. "I'm going to give you some new clothes, now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan rubbed his thighs together in anticipation. He liked his old jeans and t-shirts, and was glad that M had promised not to throw them away or anything dramatic like that—but he'd been looking forward to the change. There was something exhilarating about letting someone else control the way he dressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M led him to his room, where his closet had been drastically changed. His old things had been put in boxes and tucked into a shadowy corner, to make room for hanger after hanger of blouses and skirts. Dylan ran his hands over them, shivering at the silky feel of the fabric. Many had floral or spotted patterns, and almost all were in pink and pastel colors. He made to take down one of the blouses. M slapped his ass, hard, and he withdrew with a yelp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I will lay out a nice outfit for you to wear tomorrow," M told him. "And your pajamas are in there." He gestured to a drawer that turned out to contain several nearly identical nightgowns. Dylan picked one up and held it out in front of himself, blushing furiously when he realized how short it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Go on. Get changed."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was slow to pull off his shirt and sweatpants, made suddenly shy by the change in circumstances. Between his legs, he was drenched and aching. He waited, naked, for M to touch him. To take him, right here in the closet, or maybe lead him into the bedroom first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M tutted at him. "I've spoiled you rotten, haven't I slut?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan's flush deepened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get your clothes on and go to bed. I'll play with you tomorrow night, if you're good."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Y-yes sir," he said, his voice breathy with frustrated arousal. He made to open his underwear drawer, only to earn another hard spank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"None of that," M told him. "Just the gown."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan obediently pulled it over his head. It was loose and frilly, printed with red kiss marks, and much too tight in the chest. His breasts strained against the thin fabric, and he could see the stiff peaks of his nipples through it. The hem barely covered his ass when he stood straight. Slick trailed down the inside of his thigh, making him shudder and clench his pussy on empty air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Goodnight," M whispered into his ear. "Remember to be a good girl." Dylan's knees shook, and by the time he recovered, he was alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He collapsed onto his bed. By now he could feel his own heartbeat throbbing in his clit. He sank a finger into his cunt, and felt more slick soak the back of his nightgown, his soft sheets, even the mattress beneath them. He'd never imagined he could be this turned on by M leaving him clothed and unfucked in his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he played with himself, Dylan let his gaze wander to the upper left corner of the wall. There was a clock hanging there—a clock that he knew contained a video camera because M had told him so. But, of course, he was pretending not to know, so he glanced away just as quickly. And if he happened to position himself on his bed so that his spread legs were pointing right at it... well. Sometimes things just worked out, didn't they?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan slipped another finger into his pussy and started to fuck himself hard and loud and messy. It didn't take long for him to come, still dripping all over his bed. He went into the bathroom to clean himself off, returned to bed, and fell asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, he woke to the feeling of being watched. Dylan opened his eyes and saw M leaning on the doorframe, looking down at him with an unreadable expression. The door wasn't locked—it could, technically, but he and M had agreed to pretend that it couldn't most of the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello, sir," Dylan said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sleep well, pet?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slow, lazy smile spread across his face. "Very well, sir."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've been concerned lately." M sat down on the foot of his bed. "I worry that I've made a terrible mistake. That I've spoiled you. Is that true?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan's stomach tightened. There was a hint of danger in the air—the kind that made his pussy throb in anticipation. "No."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, sir!" he corrected himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really?" M reached between Dylan's legs. The gown did nothing at all to stop him from dragging his fingers along his slit, making him yelp and jerk his hips forward. "Because I think you've been very naughty. I think you've been touching my pussy without permission."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Y-your—?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is my pussy, pet." M teased his fingers up and down, cruelly slow. "I decide when to play with it... and when it gets to come."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Dylan said. "I won't do it again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure you won't." M's voice dropped to that slick, oily tone. The one that said he very much doubted Dylan had the mental capacity, but he hoped to be proved wrong. Dylan bit his lip and squirmed against his fingers. "You want to be a good girl, don't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes sir!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But obedience is so hard." M slid his fingers into Dylan. He gasped and spread his legs wider, his toes curling. "It takes discipline... intelligence... willpower." They started to pump in and out. In less than a minute, he was already right on the brink. Dylan threw his head back just as he was about to come—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And M's fingers withdrew. Dylan reached down without thinking, desperate to chase the sensation. The older man caught his wrist, holding his hand away from his pussy. "You don't have those things," M went on, the words dripping with pity. "You're an impulsive, stupid, weak little slut. To learn obedience, you need a firm hand. You need to be punished."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan's stomach fluttered in anticipation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come with me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He followed, his mind was already spinning with possible punishments—they'd done spanking, nipple clamps, and even once a paddle that had left Dylan's ass bright red for the whole day. But M didn't take him to their usual playroom. Instead, he stopped at a door at the very end of the hallway that had been locked as long as he'd been here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've bought you a special present," M told him, as he unlocked the door. "It's going to help you learn to be nice and obedient for me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door swung open. Inside was a small room that might once have been some kind of office—but now, it was entirely dominated by the machine in the center. Dylan stared at it for a long moment, struggling to make sense of it. There was a saddle, so he guessed it was meant to be straddled. Straps ran down either side and hung from the ceiling above it. There were seams and joints on the machine, too, that hinted at other parts still hidden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is your pony. Why don't you get naked and climb on for me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan pulled off his nightgown and approached the machine, apprehension and excitement warring in the pit of his stomach. He had to put his feet in one of the stirrups to get his leg over it, and for a second he squirmed in discomfort at a seat that seemed all bumps and strange dips. Then he settled in just right, and realized that the saddle was almost perfectly molded to his body. His bare pussy rested against the seat. It felt like leather, but didn't smell like it—probably plastic, so it wouldn't get ruined by his slick. He caught himself rocking back and forth against it and stopped, flushing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You need that discipline, don't you slut?" M trailed a hand up his leg, pausing just long enough to squeeze his ass before he started to tighten the straps. "You're such a horny girl."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan let his eyes slide shut as M did up all the straps, first on one side and then the other, and secured his arms above his head. Then there was a belt that wrapped firmly around his hips so that he couldn't rock back and forth for friction. Once it was all done, he could hardly move except to wiggle his fingers and toes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't take the slut out of you, of course," M went on. He buckled a ball gag around Dylan's neck, then popped it into his mouth. "It's in your nature." A black blindfold covered his eyes. M stuck tiny pads to his temples, his forehead, and the insides of his wrists. "You have to learn to control that filthy cunt of yours, even when it wants to be fucked." The final piece, a pair of headphones, slid down over his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Squeeze this to tell me to stop it," M told him, and slipped a button into one of his hands. Then he moved away, leaving Dylan adrift. He knew the man was still in the room, because the headphones weren't blocking any sound yet and he was making noise, but there was no way to tell what he was doing. All he could do was sit there, squirming against his bonds, as buttons clicked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the seat beneath him bulge. The tip of something pressed right against his entrance, and before Dylan could so much as gasp, it slipped inside. It wasn't big, barely longer or wider than a finger. Something else clicked out of the pony and rested lightly against his clit. M approached him again, and strapped a pair of tiny cups to his nipples.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M pulled one of the headphones away from his ear and leaned in close. "I have a lot of important work to do. It's going to take me at least an hour. So, I'm going to let you stay entertained while I'm gone. What do you think? Do you want to ride your pony?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan nodded eagerly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M's dark chuckle made him shiver. "Such a stupid little slut," he said. "You've already forgotten this is a punishment, haven't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knot in Dylan's stomach returned. Before he could move a muscle, the headphones were back down over his ears. The click of another button was the last thing he heard before all sound disappeared without a trace. There was nothing but darkness, and his own heartbeat, and the tiny dildo inside his pussy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tiny dildo started to vibrate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan clenched down and muffled a moan into his gag. He wanted to fuck himself against it, but he didn't have enough freedom to move. Seconds later, though, the machine started to do that for him. It rocked back and forth, slowly at first and then faster and faster. The cups on his nipples began to suck on them, sending tingles of heat down his spine. The vibrator in his pussy picked up speed. And, best of all, the little nub that rested against his clit started to buzz, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within less than a minute, he could feel himself about to tip over the edge. He tilted his head back, his legs straining against the straps. All it would take was another second—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a flash, the vibration nearly stopped. It was still there, a faint buzzing at his clit and inside of his pussy. If there was the slightest friction, if the dildo would push just a little bit deeper, if only the cups over his nipples would start sucking again... but they didn't. Dylan was powerless to bring himself the rest of the way there. His arms were bound, and he didn't even have enough slack to hump the seat. He was completely dependent on the pony that continued to swing back and forth, back and forth, each pass bringing him closer and closer and never, ever far enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed—he had no idea how much. The vibration and suction ticked on and off and on again. Dylan started to plead through his gag, begging a man he wasn't even sure was still in the room, telling him please, he'd be good, please play with him, please give him his cock! And then he was too far gone even for that. The maddening tension winding through his body like a spring drove every thought out of his head. He couldn't string words together to beg. All he could do was drool around the gag, tears dripping from his chin to his naked breasts as he writhed on the edge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the vibrators that had been driving him out of his mind slowed to a stop. The suction cups over his nipples turned off. The dildo retracted back into the machine. Light and sound returned, and Dylan blinked at the multicolored blur in front of him until it resolved itself into M's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How are we doing, pet?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan moaned. A bit of drool dropped down onto his breasts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M chuckled and patted his head. "That's it. That's my stupid slut." He undid the straps on Dylan's hands, then grabbed them when they flew towards his clit. "Ah-ah-ah! None of that. You want to show me you've learned your lesson, don't you? Or do you need another ride on your pony to let it sink in properly?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan still couldn't speak. He shook his head frantically, whimpering and clenching his hands into fists so that he wouldn't touch himself. Then M undid the belt, and his hips started rolling back and forth without his permission.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well," M said, as he pulled Dylan off the pony right before he could finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>get release. "I was going to reward you for taking your punishment like a good girl, but now I think you're going to have to pass a little test, first."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dylan wanted to say. All that came out was a broken whine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M led him over to a low sofa in the corner and sat down. "Come here. Come sit in my lap."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan sat. He had to keep his body raised, because there was no other way to resist the temptation to grind himself against M's slacks. He watched, slack-jawed and still drooling, as the man unzipped himself and pulled out his cock. It was hard, but only just.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not as out of sorts as you," M told him, as if he'd known what Dylan was thinking. "You see, I got to touch myself as much as I wanted while I watched you. I love seeing you squirm, babygirl."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any other time, Dylan would have tried to hide his reaction to that word—now, with his body pushed so far past its breaking point, he couldn't help the way his hips jerked. Slick dribbled down his legs as he humped the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M started to laugh. "Go ahead. I can see how much you need it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan fumbled with the condom, nearly tearing it in two in his desperation. Then he sank down onto M's cock and let out a groan of relief. Before long he was sitting flush against the man's thighs, clenching down and savoring the feeling of being full after so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh!" M snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot to tell you the most important rule of this room, pet. You are never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>allowed to come in here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan sagged against M's chest. He wanted to argue, to beg for him to make an exception just this once... but he was still too overwhelmed to speak. So he could only slump there, defeated, trying not to move so that he wouldn't pay too much attention to the cock inside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're going to show me you learned your lesson, now." M leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. "Use my pussy to make me feel good—without breaking the rules."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. He felt feverish, burning hot and so, so slow. It was almost impossible to think about anything but the roaring, pulsing ache between his legs. He knew, even as he braced his hands on M's shoulders and started to push himself up and down, that it was impossible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried everything he could. He bounced his tits in M's face, hoping that would bring him closer without pushing Dylan over the edge... but that only reminded him of the weight of them, and he had to slow down or lose control right on the spot. M yawned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan made to get up, thinking that he could use his mouth instead—but M grabbed his hips and held him there. So he kept on, tears welling in his eyes from his own torturous pace, until he couldn't stand it anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He started to ride M's cock, rubbing his nipples with both hands and rolling his hips so that his clit rubbed against the man's stomach. His sobs turned into desperate cries. Every nerve in his body, rubbed raw by hours of teasing and denial, finally came unwound. His vision tunneled. His back arched. He rode it out, greedily savoring every instant of that molten pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, inevitably, he came back to earth. M's cock was still just as stiff inside him, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with disappointment. "I've just told you the rules, and you've already broken them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan tried to speak, and startled himself by succeeding. "I'm sorry, sir."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stand up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan stood. His pussy was still quivering from his orgasm. He braced himself for M to bend him over the couch and spank him, or maybe even another session with the paddle—because that was how their punishments had always worked before. And surely, surely this new toy would only be used once today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think you need another pony ride."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Dylan backed up a step. "No!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M tutted at him. "Backtalking, too? You really are being such a spoiled brat today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"P-please," Dylan blurted, remembering his manners much too late. "Please, sir! I'll be good, I promise!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A good girl has discipline. Are you a good girl?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan fell to his knees in front of M. "You can still use my pussy! I won't come this time, I swear, I'll be good!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are. You. A good girl?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan dropped his gaze to the floor. "No, sir..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to be a good girl for me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, sir..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what does a good girl need?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"D-discipline," Dylan whimpered. M reached down and pinched one of his nipples, pulling on it until he lurched to his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well? I'm waiting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dylan approached the machine, his stomach roiling with anticipation and dread. He managed to swing himself into the stirrups, and even to stay still while M buckled him back in. But in that final moment, before the blindfold and gag and headphones were on, he broke down. He pleaded with M to spank him instead, to use him however he wanted, to hurt him until he begged him to stop. Anything but this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>M pushed the gag into his mouth. And so Dylan was rendered blind and helpless again, as the dildo pushed back into his sore, aching pussy and started to vibrate. He could do nothing but take it as the machine held him at the edge, quivering and sobbing and screaming into his gag, for as long as M wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And M wanted a very, very long show.</span>
</p>
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